


Sound The Bells

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 20:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19962709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: Bucky starts to remember more and more of his past after Thanos is finally defeated and the Snapped have returned. He refuses to let Natasha stay dead, not when she more than deserves a happily ever after of her own.





	Sound The Bells

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [2019 Buckynat Mini Bang.](http://fuckyeahbuckynatasha.tumblr.com/minibang) Post-Endgame, to fix the atrocity that was committed against Natasha. Jessy gave me the perfect idea when I was stalled out and panicking, and Dessa provided the soundtrack when I began. Title and epigraph from Dessa's ["Sound The Bells,"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIGioQ7tfXg&list=RDVIGioQ7tfXg&index=1) which is a really beautiful video to watch.
> 
> Art from [chichots!](https://chichots.tumblr.com/)

Memories came back in flashes as Sam tried to come up with various theories as to who Steve's mystery bride had been. Bucky could see flashes of red hair and a smile that was more of a smirk, movement so graceful that it flowed like water. He could feel a tightening in his throat and an ache building in his chest at the half memory. "Green eyes," he murmured, not realizing that he was cutting off Sam mid-syllable.

"What? Steve's got a thing for green eyes?" Sam asked, brows knitting in confusion.

They were sitting in a house that Steve insisted he had bought for them, knowing that the future was coming and the Avengers compound would be trashed in the battle against Thanos. "You did all this prep and did fuck all to change it from happening?!" Sam had cried.

Steve had smiled, the slick bastard. "I did, but that created a new timeline. If you want those changes happening here, you'll have to go back and do it for yourself."

Bucky had taken in the house, with its overly cheerful decor and the line of trees blocking the edge of the property from the road, and had looked at the older version of Steve with a sneer. "Since when did you want this kind of fairy tale ending? This isn't what we talked about. What happened to fighting until the very end?"

"I did and I am," Steve said, eyes alight with humor from a joke that Bucky didn't understand anymore. Maybe there had been another Bucky that he had rescued from Hydra, maybe there was no more Hydra in that alternate timeline that Steve created. "But this is for you, now. To move forward without my shadow hanging over you." The light dimmed slightly, and his lips twisted into a frown. "Going back, putting those stones back where they belonged... if there was a way I could undo seventy years of pain, damn straight I was gonna do it."

"Still leaves me here," Bucky said, voice thick with hurt.

"And I'm still here. But better than me is Sam. He's got more sense than me, I think."

"He jumps out of the sky with a pair of wings and drop kicks whatever he doesn't shoot," Bucky said dryly.

"I jump out of planes without a parachute and a shield is my weapon," Steve pointed out.

"I don't know if I can go forward without you," Bucky had said, voice breaking.

With aged hands and a hint of a tremor, Steve grasped both of Bucky's hands with his. "You can and you will. You won't be alone, you know. There are so many opportunities out there for you, and I can't wait to see what you choose."

It was done, there was no way to change what Steve had changed without fracturing the universe even further, and Bucky had enough on his conscience. He and Sam lived in the house that Steve bought for them, an upscale version of the house that Sam once had in the DC area now nestled in Duchess County, New York.

Bucky didn't feel comfortable in this house, especially when his memory continued to show him flashes, fragments that seemed to consolidate into coherent scenes. Most of the memories had the redhead in them, with her piercing green eyes, wry smile and a wit so dry it burned when its edge lashed him. They had handlers, he knew that much, and everything had to be hidden or else his mind would be turned inside out and erased again.

He could feel the touch of her fingers on his flesh wrist, the pressure on the metal plates. He could remember the way her legs moved in sweeping arcs, arms lifted up to do a perfect pirouette, hair scraped back and pulled tight into a bun. Young but not so young it was illegal and immoral; something in him had shied away from even the hint of potential wrongness, even then, and everything around him had to be warped and twisted in order to get him to pull the trigger in the direction that they wanted.

Memories were hazy in spots, startlingly sharp in others. He remembered the death; handlers always let him keep those, but anything soft or comforting in his life had been excised with brutal ruthlessness and precision. So his mystery redhead had to remain silent and indifferent in public, no more than comrades at arms, partners on a mission to do the deadly work of their handlers, and not the emotionally entwined lovers that they had been.

Because they had been lovers, of that he was absolutely certain. He could remember pinning her to a bed, her creamy and pale skin bare to his gaze. She laughed, a bright and tinkling sound mixed in between breathy sounds, something like bells to the haziness of his memory. Her fingers linked through his, and she had kisses for his lips and nose and cheeks and forehead, caresses for his aching and scarred body, sensual touch that caused his back to arch and his mouth to cry out in sweet bliss. Bucky could almost taste her on his tongue, could feel the way her nipple pebbled up in his mouth, the heft of her breasts in his hands.

She had mattered, and at one point had meant more to him than life.

Sam snapped his fingers, dragging Bucky's attention back to the present. "The hell, man? You that gone on trying to figure out who Steve's wife was?"

"No," he said, feeling almost as if he was moving underwater, tongue thick in his mouth and limbs dragging through the air as he ran his fingers through his hair. Something didn't feel right, a memory drifting past, just out of reach. The memory of a memory, fainter than the bells of his lover's laughter.

"What, then?"

"My memory," he began, voice faltering. "Since I got back, it's like the jumble in my head got reassembled into something different. Like I can remember everything that Hydra tried to destroy in there." He let his gaze slide past Sam's sympathetic clucking noise; it wasn't pity, he knew, but it still felt as sharp as a knife to the gut. "I see flashes of someone. I know she was important to me, but I don't remember enough about her."

"Like her name?" Sam prompted.

"She had red hair. Green eyes." Bucky let out a frustrated noise. "We sparred, and I know she was able to kick my ass if she didn't pull back on her punches."

Leaning back in his easy chair, Sam shot him a dubious look. "The only woman I know that could match that description is dead."

Bucky's breath caught. "What?"

"Natasha Romanoff," Sam said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he contemplated Bucky's pale and stunned face. "You shot her. Twice."

Cursing under his breath in Russian, Bucky shook his head. "I didn't remember her. I didn't know. I... Well, not exactly. I can't say that. I knew she was important when I saw her on the bridge in DC. I knew that, but not why. She wasn't part of my mission, but I couldn't let her run away from me. I know that much."

Sam let out a low whistle. "And she never let on that you were more than a ghost story that she was trying to chase down."

"Because that was all I was supposed to be. I wasn't a person."

Nodding his understanding, Sam tilted his head. "So what do you remember, exactly?"

"Sparring, I told you. In more ways than one."

That suggestive edge to Bucky's words led Sam to sputtering, which made Bucky shoot him a wan smile. "You do that shit on purpose, asshole," Sam grumbled.

"Yeah, and you fall for it every time."

Getting to his feet, Sam shoot his head and snorted. "Such an asshole."

"You're one, too."

"Not gonna disagree," Sam agreed with a shrug, "but my Mama didn't raise a fool. So if you're remembering this past with Natasha, what does that mean?" The sympathetic expression on his face was back, and it burned just as badly as it had the first time around. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Bucky took a deep breath, then let it out. "I guess I'm going to have to figure out a way to bring her back to life." He looked at Sam's startled expression with a bleak one of his own. "From what I remember? I owe her everything. She deserves better than death."

"Damn straight," Sam said with a firm nod. "I'm in."

"I didn't ask you. I don't even know what the hell to do."

Sam flashed him a rakish grin. "Then it's a good thing I'm signing myself up, because you are damn hopeless and need my direction."

***

Bucky remembered Okoye from his time in Wakanda before he had dissolved into a pile of ashes in front of Steve. She recalled him as well, and greeted him warmly when she arrived at the house, her smile fond and wide. "You look well," she said, giving him a nod of approval.

"Not fighting agrees with me," Bucky replied with a grin, and gestured for her to enter the living room. "Ruling apparently agrees with _you."_

Okoye rolled her eyes but adjusted her leather jacket. "I thought it would be best to see you for myself rather than talk over hologram."

"Plus, that can get weird."

"I have seen much that is weird," Okoye intoned, a slight smirk on her lips.

The sight of it reminded Bucky of Natasha, now that he knew the name of the redhead in his fragmented memories. This memory was sharper, and he saw more of her face and clothes, as well as the surrounding areas behind her. It was clearly in the past, memories that Hydra teams had tried to erase. Now along with the smirk he could see how young Natasha seemed, how bright her hair, and recalled playing with it on a pillow in dingy hotel rooms.

_"Oh my love, whatever am I going to do with you?"_

Bucky blinked back to the present as Okoye took a seat in the living room. Sam was out shopping, and Bucky had deliberately wanted to talk to Okoye on his own. "You knew Natasha," he began without preamble, not sure how to ask this without sounding strange. "I want to try to bring her back from the dead."

Looking at him evenly, Okoye didn't bat an eye. "You didn't seem particularly fond of her when she visited Wakanda with Steve."

"I know, it sounds strange. We were cordial, but it wasn't some kind of hot romantic thing. But I'm remembering things now, and she used to be the one part of my entire miserable existence as the Winter Soldier that made it bearable. That was stolen from me, and you know her. She'd never make me feel bad for that or push for anything more. _I_ want that back. I want to know what was lost, and she doesn't deserve to die."

Leaning forward, Okoye caught his hands in hers and gave them a thoughtful squeeze. "Death doesn't come just to those that deserve it. Death comes for us all."

"I know, but she should've been there with us at that final battle. She should've taken down Thanos. She worked so hard while we were ashed, she should see that her hard work paid off."

"Our people believe in an afterlife, a world where our ancestors live. I believe she is there, and she is aware of how her good deeds affected so many." Okoye squeezed his hands again. "She always took on too much responsibility, I would have to rein her in to more reasonable goals." Her smile was sad yet still fond. "She took everything to heart, you know. As if she was singlehandedly responsible for all the ills of the world. She even wanted to try to stop earthquakes!"

Bucky laughed a little, glad to be hearing about this side of Natasha. Everyone saw a different side of her, and each facet was triggering more memories for him.

"I can see that, definitely," Bucky said, eyes crinkling in the corners as he laughed.

Okoye looked at him closely. "You loved her once."

"Yes. I think I still could, if given the chance."

"And I can see her falling in love with you, if given the chance."

"Kind of you to say."

"Truthful," Okoye corrected. "You have been hurt much by circumstances, and lies will offer you no comfort. But she needs a strong confidante, someone to stand by her side and assist her, but wouldn't always need her to save him."

"I think we saved each other, back then. It's hard to remember, but it comes back in flashes sometimes." His sad smile was mirrored on her face, given that she knew all about the trauma that he had lived through before showing up in Wakanda.

"You wanted to talk to me because you want me tell you to go after her," Okoye said after a moment. "You want my blessing, because I've known her these past few years."

"Is it wrong? Am I being selfish?"

"If it is, I am selfish, too." The smile on her face was sad and she looked down at her hands as she clasped them in her lap. "I miss her. And if I can help you, I will."

"I don't even know where to start," Bucky admitted. "Sam's kind of the voice of reason here, and thinks he needs to do _research."_

Okoye laughed at the disgusted expression on his face. "Bast knows how he'll find any information. No one wanted to talk about what happened on her last mission. As polite and helpful as he can be, I doubt if they'll discuss it."

"So how do I even start?"

Lifting her wrist, she tapped on one of the beads. "All I know is that many of the people that worked with us had been in space. I believe Rocket and Nebula know the most about what had been going on." She looked up after a hologram lifted up from the bead. "You might not get far, but this at least is a start."

"Thank you."

She shook her head. "Don't thank me. Just get her back."

"That's the plan."

***

Rocket hadn't been aware of the details of the time heist, but Nebula had been. Her expression immediately went hollow and drawn, and Sam was concerned about the state of mind she was in. "If you go to Vormir," she warned them, "only one of you is coming back with the soul stone."

"The hell?"

"That's what I know. Thanos went to Vormir with Gamora and came back without her but with the stone. Your archer went to Vormir with Natasha, and he came back without her but with the stone."

"I can talk to Clint about what actually happened there," Bucky began slowly, seeing Nebula's eyes skip past him in the hologram, "but we'd still need a way to get to Vormir."

"You're forgetting the part where _somebody dies,_ genius," Rocket snapped.

"Maybe there's a way around that," Bucky said. "Steve put the stone back, that must help us. It has to mean something."

"She didn't come back with him," Nebula pointed out. "So simply giving the stone back didn't bring her back. It means she's _dead,_ and it's permanent."

"I don't accept that," Bucky replied, voice tight. "I'm going to figure out a way to bring her back, because I have to. She can't be dead, and I won't let that happen."

Both had pitying looks for him, but Bucky could easily ignore that. "Look, lots of weirdness in the universe when you consider magic and the power of these stones," Sam was saying in a placating kind of manner. "It can't hurt to try."

"Yeah, it can," Nebula said, voice harsh. "Because right now you have hope you can do this, and it can't be done. Then it'll hurt worse because then you'll feel like a failure."

"I'm with Blue on this one, believe it or not," Rocket said in the intervening silence. "Just... We grieved, we said words. I know it sucks, but that's all we got right now."

"I don't accept that," Bucky repeated, shaking his head. "So will you take us to Vormir or not?"

"Nothing good comes from that place," Nebula told him.

"If we don't take you, I get the feeling that you're going to find some other scumbag to do it. You might as well give us the credits," Rocket told him.

"Considering I don't know the exchange rate," Bucky said dryly, "I'll come up with something that should pay for the fuel costs."

"And we're gonna double check the rates with other space people," Sam added, pushing himself into the view space to level a glare at Rocket. "Don't think you can scam us."

"You're Natasha's friends," Rocket said gravely. "I won't mark it up too much."

They signed off on that note, and Bucky decided to talk to Clint alone. "You don't have to do that, you know," Sam told him quietly. "I can help. This doesn't have to be all on you all the time."

"I think it does. She'd been on her own for a long time, and I need to walk the same path she did."

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. "Even she couldn't save the world on her own. You're not alone in this, man. Don't feel like it has to be that way."

Mulling it over, Bucky finally nodded. "I'll think about it."

***

Bucky thought of Natasha, sitting in a chair at a desk, reading and twirling a lock of hair around a finger, chewing on her lower lip. _You're paying such close attention,_ he said, coming up behind her and bending down to kiss the top of her head. _Is it studying for the next mission?_ he asked, letting the fingers of his hands trail down her arms.

Natasha laughed and looked up, reaching out to ruffle his hair. _You know me, my love._

_I do, that's why I think you're prepping for a mission._

She laughed again, pushing the book away as she twisted around in her seat. Pulling his head down, she gave him a filthy kiss. _There are all sorts of things I need to prepare for in order to get into character. It isn't effortless yet._

He kissed her back, as if he could pour out his entire soul into it. _You've always amazed me, Natasha. Everything you want to do gets done. You're so very talented, never second guess yourself or doubt that._

 _Of course I don't,_ she said, tugging him down for another kiss. _I know who I am, I know what I can do._ Her expression took on a playful and sultry cast, and she let her hands slid down his chest. _Just like I know what I can do to_ you.

Even without a name to call his own then, he knew that he had been loved by her. It was in every touch, every glance, the way she referenced previous moments together when they spoke. Bucky had never been a thing to her, but a man that she could love on his own merit. Perhaps they were both broken and shattered souls, but together they fit well. He'd always felt whole with her, not simply an empty shell to follow commands like an automaton.

Her touch was gentle, even over his metal arm, as if he was fragile. Once he was frustrated with that, he would growl and grab her. It was a fight of sorts then, playing with each other until one pinned the other to the bed. Then they would kiss for what felt like hours, before one of them got frustrated and overwrought. At that point, it didn't matter who was doing the pinning or who was pinned. All that mattered was the here and now, the moment they could seize.

Natasha yanked at his shirt, tearing it and tossing it aside once she got it off of him. Flipping him over onto his back, she straddled his waist and pinned his hands down. She kissed him, nips of lips and teeth along his full lips until she began to teasingly kiss his cheeks or forehead. _Do I need to tie you down, love?_ she asked, her voice a throaty purr.

He had laughed, finding it arousing, and pushed at her hands. _If you can find something that won't break?_

She laughed then, and let go of his hands. He was a bit neater about her clothes, though one of the seams at the shoulder of her shirt ripped anyway. _I know how to keep you still,_ she'd bragged while naked, caressing her own breasts in a playful taunt.

_You think you know me so well?_

_Well enough for this, my love._

Bucky playfully stretched his arms up, but the flimsy headboard for the bed would never withstand the pressure of his metal hand. He was more than happy to let her climb on top of him, her wet center over his mouth. Oh yes, she knew him well enough that he would enjoy this and stay in one place while she did whatever else she wanted with his body. Natasha didn't even bother to take off his trousers, she just unzipped him and freed his erection, stroking and rubbing it while caressing his thigh beneath his clothes. He made happy noises as he licked into her, nipping at her clit or sucking it intermittently. Not enough to get her so hot and bothered, and not enough where he would so tempted to just grab her thighs.

That all changed the instant her mouth closed over him. He groaned, turning his head to press his lips against her thigh, and had to grasp her waist. Maybe he said something, he still couldn't remember now what he might have said if he said anything. It was intense, he remembered that much, partly because it had been such a long time since he had been able to be with her, partly because he hadn't expected it. 

It didn't matter if he exploded into her mouth or that he made her come with a hiss and cry muffled against the inside of his thigh, her fingers tight on his flesh as if her nails would pierce his skin. He moved quickly, lifting her legs so he was practically folding her in half. She was wet and slick, tight around him, a second skin that writhed and moved and urged him on with breathy gasps and hands reaching up and grasping his arms. He wasn't allowed to move away even if he wanted to, rapid as his heartbeat, pushing hard and fast and deep, the promise in his eyes that this would last forever if it had to.

 _Whatever else happens,_ she gasped afterward, limbs splayed across the bed and a smile stretching her lips, _we'll have this. We'll always have this._

He linked his fingers through hers, flesh and metal, tight as if they could slide inside each others' skins. There was no energy left for anything more, and he knew he would do anything she asked of him, and millions of things she would never think to ask.

 _Forever,_ he told her, gaze intense, boring deeply into her eyes so that she could see his sincerity for herself. Words could be twisted, gestures misread. Their touch, their kisses, the taste of their desire on the tongue... None of that changed and never would. _Whatever I have is yours._

 _This is mine,_ she said, reaching up with their hands to press against his chest, right over his heart. Her movement was graceless, making them both laugh.

 _Of course,_ he'd told her, leaning down for a kiss. _Just as yours is mine. We're made of the same stuff, the same soul. We won't be whole without the other._

 _So poetic, my love,_ she'd purred, pleased with him.

That was the way he was with her, only with her. His shell melted around her, his eyes grew soft and his heart thudded in his chest. Natasha was supposed to be an enigma, a cipher the higher ups could bend and twist and direct in whatever direction they wanted. But beneath that mask she wore for them, she was still her own woman. They were fools, those old men behind the desks, because they believed what they saw and didn't think to look deeper. It would take more effort on their part, perhaps, and they weren't the type to spend it all when they thought they knew the answers to all the questions.

Their arrogance made them blind, and gave Bucky and Natasha the window they needed to find each other then. Now that the memories were coming back, Bucky had to find her again.

***

Sam preempted Bucky and called Clint himself. It was probably just as well, because Clint had turned into a sobbing wreck and Laura had to discuss what she knew with Sam. She had pried every heartbreaking detail about Vormir from Clint, knowing best how to approach him in the middle of his grief. "He had changed so much," she told Sam with a heavy sigh. "For me it was just a moment, but for him it was five years. There's so much he doesn't want to tell me, but so much that he has to."

"We're all feeling it," Sam had agreed heavily. "But we're gonna get her back."

"If you do, someone else will have to take her place," Laura warned. "Clint stressed that. It's the soul stone, and it's a trade. A soul for a soul."

"Any of us might trade for Natasha."

"I doubt she'd want that."

"Knowing her, she took everything to heart and still thought she had to pay back being an assassin and double agent," Sam pointed out. "So she's hardly an unbiased account on her own goodness. It's been that way the entire time I knew her. She's definitely worth sacrificing for, and I know plenty would feel the same."

"Enough to die for her?" Laura asked softly.

"If need be, yeah."

He could hear her breathing, harsh and pained. "I don't want to lose anyone else," she said finally, voice breaking. "I can't make your choices for you, and I won't, but you need to be fully aware of what the price is when you go."

"Thank you, Laura."

"I know you'll get her back." Laura's breath hitched painfully. "Don't lose too much in the process."

"We're definitely gonna try," Sam promised.

Bucky sat there stone faced when Sam reported on his conversation with Laura Barton, then stood up and headed for the basement of the house. "Where you going?" he asked, voice rising a little in anxiety.

"A soul for a soul," he intoned, not turning around. "Everyone's been so fucking literal, I thought Natalia was better than that. Creative, but not when it comes to valuing her own life."

"Hey, man..."

"I need to hit something. Call me when Rocket gets us a ship."

Sam blew out a breath and collapsed onto the couch. What was his thing with broody super soldiers that didn't know how to stop fighting gracefully? Then again, he'd tasted civilian life and it didn't fit him correctly anymore.

He thought of the shield that he'd been almost afraid to pick up, the weight of the name and history behind it. Steve was an old man now, and had given up the fight to him. Sam knew what injustice and misery looked like, knew that defeat could leach out the hope of anyone, no matter how strong willed.

That was not something that would continue to hover like a cloud over Bucky. The universe owed him better than he'd gotten so far.

***

The ship was small and easy to maneuver, little more than a shuttle meant to convey people or goods from a larger ship in orbit over a planet to the surface. It would more than make the journey to Vormir from Earth with the jump drive that Rocket had installed, and he'd even put in the coordinates and did the calculations for the jumps for them. "Be careful what you wish for," Rocket warned him, somber and shoulders slumped slightly. "Not that I wouldn't want Red back to joke with, or just talk shit with, but sometimes people don't come back the same. Death changes you."

"I've died a few times," Bucky told him, his own head bowed and shoulders slumping as well. "Didn't take."

"Yeah, well, just don't be stupid."

"Steve took it all with him," Bucky replied without thinking. Rocket looked up with a startled grin and started to laugh. "I take it you know him."

"The original version, yeah, not the old faker that gave away that shield to your friend there." Rocket shrugged. "But yeah. Dumbass." He grinned at Bucky. "Careful how you get to Vormir and back, okay? There's not enough fuel to mess up the jump sequence."

"Whatever it takes to get there," Bucky told Rocket evenly, a serene expression on his face. It didn't even matter about the return trip, if he had to remain on Vormir for the rest of eternity or not. His mission was to get Natasha, and that was the entirety of his focus.

Sam came up behind them in a uniform that had stars and some stripes on them, a modified version of his old Falcon uniform. "I'm the brains of the operation here."

"Someone's gotta be," Rocket agreed, nodding and hopping off of the table he had been standing on. "And it sure as hell ain't pretty over there."

Bucky could almost hear Natasha's laughter in the back of his mind, could feel her fingers ruffling through his hair as she called him too pretty to get lost in Department X. Something twisted inside his chest at that fragment of memory, another piece of himself that had been stolen away. How much time had he missed? How much damage had he caused simply because he couldn't remember the good things in life?

"Yeah, up to him? We wouldn't have any fuel to get back," Sam was continuing with a laugh, shaking his head in a fond way. It was a nice change, given their first interactions, but Bucky hadn't been himself then. He'd been purely the Winter Soldier then, and that soulless creature wasn't even the same one that Natasha had loved.

"You're talkin' 'bout me like I'm not even here," he complained, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"So join the flarking conversation, pretty," Rocket snarked, flashing him a grin. "Brains here knows the jump sequences, and so should you."

He could remember the sheer wonder and joy the skies used to give him, the way that new technology had been inspiring. That side of him was long gone, but Natasha had managed to pull that out of him once upon a time.

"Are we gonna see much going through jump points?" Bucky asked, eyes lighting up. "I haven't been to space before."

"It's normal for me, I guess," Rocket allowed, thinking it over for a moment, "but yeah, it can be really pretty."

"Thanks for helping us," Bucky murmured as Sam headed into the shuttle.

Rocket's expression softened a fraction. "Someone's gotta. You need all the help you can get."

***

Vormir was a dreary planet, mostly blasted rock and a solitary peak with a structure almost looking like a temple at its peak. The overcast sky added to bleak picture it all made, an orange cast hidden by the dark clouds. It looked like it was about to storm at any moment, but it never actually tipped over into rain or wind. All of the watery pools on the ground were still, not even a faint breeze to disturb the glassy surface reflecting the weak light back into the sky.

"This just looks like a fucked up place," Sam commented as he maneuvered the shuttle toward the temple at the top of the mountain. "No wonder it was hard to get the stone."

"It's as hard as giving up something you care about," Bucky murmured, looking at the sliver of light from behind the eclipsed sun. "It's as easy and as difficult as that."

Sam blew out a breath. "I hate this place already."

Everyone else came to this planet with hope and left with death. The aura had bled into the very stones of the place, become part of its energy. It drained life and dreams alike.

_A soul for a soul._

Bucky wanted to break something as he thought of those words, and remembered a younger version of Natasha leaning against him as they sat in wait on a ridge, ready to take the sniper's shot. _Do you think we even have souls?_

_Where is this coming from?_

_What we do,_ she had begun carefully, eyes still looking through the scope, _is take life without thought. We follow orders and don't question. There is no caring, no love..._

He had scoffed at her, once upon a time, and regretted that sharply now. _Love is for children,_ he told her, echoing words he'd heard in the training facility.

Her lips twisted in a sour way, so he knew that she didn't like the statement. _Yes, they say that all the time._

His flesh hand rested over hers on the rifle. _And what do you say?_

Natasha sighed, never taking her eyes off of the target. _I want to think that I am a person. I want to think that I have a soul, that I am someone worthwhile._

Tightening his hand, he kissed her cheek and leaned into her, pressing his lips against the back of her neck. _You're worthwhile to me._

 _Until they wipe us,_ she said, voice breaking at the end. _Then I won't even be a memory. We won't exist to each other._

_They can't lock it away forever. It's why they've wiped me so much in the past. My memories all come back sooner or later._

Taking her eyes away from the target, she found his mouth and pressed her lips to his. _I hope mine never leave, and they never take you from me._

 _I'll find my way back to you,_ he promised, meaning every syllable. _No matter what they do to me, I will always come for you._

Bucky looked around Vormir, heart heavy. "I have a promise to keep," he told Sam. "We're finally here, and I won't stop until I've found her."

Sam sighed just as heavily as Bucky did. "Then let's get our girl back."

They parked the shuttle in a flatter area on the mountain. The atmosphere was breathable, just dreary, and they climbed the rest of the way to the peak. Neither man spoke, this wasn't the time to crack jokes or lighten the mood. Bucky thought his heart was beating hard enough to crack through his ribs, and he hoped that he could get Natasha back.

 _Don't tell me you're nervous,_ her voice laughed in his mind. _I know you're up for any challenge. Don't back down now._

He didn't know if it was actually a conversation they had once upon a time or not, but it was enough to have him push forward until they got to the peak. The stones were jagged, and led to an archway. Beyond it was a lot of nothingness, then a black cloaked figure stepped into view, a hood obscuring its face.

"You have come for the stone," the figure said in a familiar voice, German accented and guttural, as if he had been injured but still had a job to do.

"I know you," Bucky found himself saying, stalking forward.

The figure lifted his head, and Bucky saw the red skull staring at him. "James Buchanan Barnes, you have lived a long time and under many names."

It was like moving underwater, and Bucky found himself right in front of the Red Skull, metal hand curled in those black folds of the cloak, lifting him up above the ground. "I know you," Bucky repeated, "and it's because of you, because of men like you, that I had all those other names. It's because of _you_ that there was more misery in the world!"

"Perhaps at one time I did such things," the Red Skull said, voice even. "But time has no meaning here, and those so-called miseries mean nothing anymore."

Bucky shook him, feeling his blood rushing through his ears. He felt like howling at him. "No, you prick, _they mean everything."_

The Red Skull didn't smile or seem affected, which only got Bucky's ire up. "This is a world of sacrifice. The stone demands it, so that you understand the power you wield when you take it. You must lose what you love in order to take it."

Opening his fist before he was tempted to rip the Red Skull apart, Bucky looked at him in disgust. "I'm not here for the stone. I don't want it, I don't need it. I want _Natasha._ I want the soul that should've been returned when Steve brought back the stone."

Though the Red Skull had stumbled and was close to the edge of the cliff, he hadn't lost his footing. He shook his head now. "It doesn't work that way. It isn't a barter."

 _"A soul for a soul,"_ Bucky roared. He could hear Sam behind him, probably approaching in concern that he would do something incredibly stupid.

"To take the stone," the Red Skull told him calmly. "Not to take back the dead. Once dead, souls cannot return."

"I call bullshit," Bucky snarled. The implacable expression on the Red Skull's face was a taunt, and it felt like he was staring at Bucky in pity. He lifted his leg and _kicked_ with all of his might, catching the Red Skull in the chest.

The force of the blow launched him backward, over the edge of the cliff, and the look of shock and terror on his crimson face would have been comical if this was that kind of situation. The Red Skull fell, not even crying out in shock, as if the breath had been stolen from him the moment Bucky's boot had cracked his sternum.

Blood continued to rush past his ears, so Bucky didn't even hear the dull thud of the Red Skull hitting the ground below. Sam winced, he was too full of heart even now, and gingerly approached the edge to look over it.

"That's a terrible way to go," Sam said, still wincing as he looked back at Bucky. If it was possible for him to pale, he probably would have. Something about bad memories of falls, but Bucky wasn't listening to the details. He should have, he was a terrible friend this way, but his chest felt tight and he couldn't breathe.

"I would give just about anything to get Natasha back," Bucky said aloud, hoping that this fucking planet understood what he meant. "She was my heart, she was the one that made me a whole person when I was nothing but a broken shadow. I was a ghost, I was nothing but a blank slate they constantly erased and wiped clean." His voice was rising in volume, and he could see Sam staring at him in concern.

Ignoring it, Bucky started undoing the buckles at the neck of his flight suit. He batted away Sam's hands when he tried to stop him. "Sam. The world needs her. The _universe_ needs her. Who am I? Bucky Barnes, the traumatized vet? The Winter Soldier, who nobody wants to claim anymore? I'd give it up to get her back."

"I'm not giving you up, man," Sam insisted, eyes wide and desperate.

Bucky could almost see himself reflected in those eyes, and gave him a sad smile. "But it's not up to you, Sam," he said softly. "It's my sacrifice to make."

Pain shot through his shoulder, and he could hear the clicks and whirs of the plates of his arm. It hurt as badly as when the metal arm had been attached to him in the first place, anchored into his bones and distorting the shape of his spine with the weight of it. He grit his teeth as his vision whited out from the pain, something that hadn't happened since the very beginning of his time as the Winter Soldier.

When the pain stopped, Bucky realized his eyes were closed and he was lying in a pool of water that was room temperature. It felt almost like a sensory deprivation chamber, drifting in and out of consciousness as he tried to take stock of his body.

Natasha was laughing at him.

He cracked open an eye, sure that he was hallucinating in the middle of a deprivation chamber, his memories bleeding over into his current perceptions. Shock made his other eye shoot open, and his mouth shot open with a cry of surprise as he jerked himself up to a sitting position. Or tried to, rather, because he was oddly balanced and his body didn't feel quite right.

"Hello, my love," she said, smiling widely at him. She extended a hand for him to take, which he took gratefully. "We never did things the easy way, did we?"

"That's the boring way," he said, feeling like an idiot. "What happened?"

She reached out with her other hand once he was standing in the water, caressing his left shoulder. It now ended in a rough stump, the metal arm gone. "You sacrificed the Winter Soldier."

"They were all talking about the stone, though..."

"But you never wanted the stone, you only wanted me. And I was inside the stone, with everyone else ever sacrificed to get it." Her fingers laced through his, and she pulled him right up against her. "So the planet wasn't going to give you the stone. You never wanted that. You only wanted me. You only ever wanted me."

"I've been remembering things," he said hesitantly, tightening his hold on her hand. "About you. About us. I couldn't let you go."

Natasha grinned and stood on her tip toes to kiss him. "Thank you."

"So is this forever now?"

"I think so."

Bucky let go of her hand to sweep her body up in his remaining arm. "There's so much to make up for. So much to do..."

Natasha had her arms around him, laughing in relief, delight and love. This was happening, really happening, he wasn't just dreaming. Leaning against her, Bucky curled up around her warmth. He was exhausted, strength spent, and he felt ready to pass out. Later, he would find out exactly how much he had given up for her, but he couldn't regret it. It didn't matter. She was more important than he used to be, and he would do it all again in a heartbeat.

"We'll find Sam," Natasha said quietly. She was holding him in her arms, cradling him, supporting his weight. She was warm and real, smelled like the woman she always had been, and the light overhead only seemed to highlight the red of her hair. "We'll make it work, you and I."

Bucky laughed. "Whatever you want." She was literally his world how and he didn't plan on ever letting go if he could help it. "You'll have to walk me back, though. I'm about to fall over."

"Didn't I always keep you afloat?" she asked, the grin and tone of her voice telling him that she was teasing him. It was familiar, the thing they'd always done in the past, and he lifted his head high enough to grin in return.

"And you always will," he said, a reverent note to his voice.

Time to turn back, Natasha carrying him the entire way.

The End


End file.
